Chapter 3 - The Web of Debt
I didn't have an hour. I had forty-five minutes.
I moved with silent, calculated precision. First, I went to my bedroom, tapped on the wood, and whispered, "Firefly."
The lock clicked immediately. The door swung open, and Tyler looked up at me, his small face pale and tense.
"Is he coming?" Tyler asked, clutching a small plastic action figure like a talisman.
"Yes," I said, crouching before him. "And you are going to be my secret agent today, okay? Uncle Jason cannot know that you told me anything. Do you understand? You have to act totally normal. You eat your breakfast, you watch your cartoons, and then Mrs. Gable from next door is going to come over and take you to the science museum for the day."
Tyler blinked. "Mrs. Gable?"
"I already texted her. She’s coming through the back fence gate in twenty minutes. You are going to spend the whole day looking at dinosaur bones, eating ice cream, and staying safe. Can you do that for me?"
Tyler hesitated, then set his small jaw. "Only if you promise you’ll be safe too."
"I promise," I said, hugging him tightly. "Pack your backpack. Just your favorite things."
While Tyler packed, I hurried down to the living room.
My house was modest—a single-story ranch with an open-concept kitchen and a hallway leading to the three bedrooms. Two weeks ago, I had purchased a set of three small, magnetic nanny cams disguised as USB wall chargers to monitor Mom’s room in case she fell while I was in the kitchen. I hadn't set them up yet because Jason had constantly offered to watch her, making me think it was unnecessary.
What a blind, trusting fool I had been.
With trembling hands, I tore open the packaging. I synced the cameras to my smartphone via their secure app.
Camera one: I plugged it into the wall outlet directly across from Mom's bed, angled perfectly to capture anyone approaching the mattress, the nightstand, and the doorway.
Camera two: I plugged it into the kitchen outlet near the refrigerator, facing the dining table where Jason usually sat to look through paperwork.
Camera three: I slipped it into the fake potted fern sitting on the entryway console table, pointing straight at the front door.
Next, I went into Mom’s room.
"Mom," I whispered. "Listen carefully. I need you to pretend you are heavily sedated. When Jason comes in, barely open your eyes. Mumble. If he talks about papers, if he talks about anything, just nod weakly. Do not let him suspect that you told me about the woman or the thumbprint."
"Sarah, please... be careful," she whimpered, clutching my hand. "You don't know who he's involved with. A few weeks ago, before my surgery, a man came to my house. He had tattoos on his neck, Sarah. He stood on my porch and told me Jason owed three hundred thousand dollars to a private poker den in the city. He said if Jason didn't pay, they’d burn my house down with me inside."
Three hundred thousand dollars.
The sheer scale of Jason’s recklessness took the air from my lungs. Our mother’s house was appraised at roughly four hundred and fifty thousand. If Jason transferred the deed and took out a quick-turnaround hard-money equity loan, he could pocket the difference and disappear, leaving Mom homeless and penniless.
"I will handle it," I said, kissing her cheek. "Close your eyes now. Rest."
At precisely 6:28 a.m., the crunch of gravel outside announced the arrival of Jason’s silver SUV.
Almost simultaneously, my phone buzzed with a text from Mrs. Gable: *I’m at the back gate.*
I rushed Tyler to the kitchen backdoor. He looked up at me one last time, his little backpack slung over his shoulders. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you more than the whole sky, baby. Go."
He slipped out into the foggy morning air, darting across the lawn into the neighbor's hedge line just as the heavy thud of footsteps sounded on the front porch.
*Thump, thump, thump.*
The front door handle rattled, and then Jason pushed the door open. He still had his old emergency key from last winter.
"Sarah? Smell the sugar, sis!" Jason’s voice boomed cheerfully as he walked inside, carrying a large pink bakery box and a cardboard carrier holding two large coffees.
He looked immaculate. Pressed flannel shirt, clean denim, hair freshly styled, a charming grin spread across his square jaw. To anyone passing on the street, Jason Vance was the golden boy, the loving son, the devoted brother sacrificing his mornings to help his sick family.
Beneath that flannel shirt, I knew, was a monster who had choked his own dying mother for a thumbprint.
"Hey," I said, forcing a weary smile as I wiped down the kitchen counter with a rag. "You’re right on time. Tyler’s already over at Mrs. Gable’s—she offered to take him to the museum for the day so he wouldn't be cooped up in this sad house all weekend."
Jason froze mid-stride, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. The smile on his lips remained, but the warmth completely evaporated from his eyes.
"Mrs. Gable?" Jason asked, setting the pink box down on the counter. "Since when does Tyler go to the museum on a Friday?"
"Since he started having nightmares about hospitals," I lied smoothly, pouring myself a glass of water to keep my hands from shaking. "He was getting depressed, Jason. He needed to get out."
Jason stared at me for three long seconds. The silence in the kitchen was razor-sharp.
"Right," he said slowly, the broad smile snapping back into place like a rubber band. "Good idea. Kids shouldn't see all this sickness anyway. How's Mom this morning?"
"Weak," I said, shaking my head and rubbing my temples. "Barely opened her eyes when I gave her her six o'clock meds. I think the new dosage is knocking her out completely."
A flicker of unmistakable relief flashed across Jason’s face. It was brief—a mere twitch of his brow and a subtle relaxation of his shoulders—but the nanny cam hidden by the refrigerator caught every millisecond of it.
"Yeah, congestive heart failure is ugly," Jason sighed, walking toward the hallway. "I’ll go sit with her for a bit. Why don't you sit down, eat a roll, and drink that latte? You look like you're about to collapse, Sarah."
"I might just take a shower," I replied, stepping toward the master bathroom. "Shout if she wakes up."
"Will do, sis."
Jason turned and walked down the hallway toward Mom’s room.
May you like
The moment his back was turned, I slipped into my bedroom, locked the door silently, pulled my phone from my pocket, and opened the live feed for Camera One.
***
